


never has it been so clear

by lovelyleias



Category: Deltora Quest - Emily Rodda
Genre: F/M, I invented an economy of sorts, Pre-Canon, which is unfortunate as i know nothing about math
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyleias/pseuds/lovelyleias
Summary: Jarred encounters a problem within Del's makeshift economy.





	never has it been so clear

The late afternoon sun blazed hot, even as it began its descent. The ends of Jarred’s hair clung to the back of his neck, and he counted himself lucky to be free from real work for the afternoon. Crian had gone to the other side of town to visit a friend, which meant that Jarred and Anna’s only task for the evening was to complete the week’s shopping. He shifted the heavy bag he carried onto his other shoulder.

The first few weeks in the Forge had been hard. The hunger pains that had raged in his belly were strange and unwelcome. At night, he would exhaustedly stumble into his bed, and yet sleep took some time to claim him, for his muscles ached relentlessly from the strenuous work assigned to a blacksmith’s apprentice. Jarred had thought himself skilled in the ways of forging, but the ceremonial work he had done in the palace could not be compared to practical smithing. Worst of all was the pain in his heart caused by Endon’s loss. But a year had passed, and hunger was managed, muscles and callouses were acquired, and Crian and Anna filled the little house with love and laughter that helped soothe his heart.

He walked with Anna through the crowded streets of the Del Market. Although it called itself as such, the ‘Del Market’ was hardly an appropriate name. It was not a specified place, but rather a specified time of year. In the warmer months, merchant and shopkeepers would sit outside of their shops and homes, and sell their best wares out of barrows. It was one of the little things that the people did to aid in raising their own spirits. Money was not often exchanged, for no one in Del had much to spare, but many shopkeepers were happy to trade, or even lend their goods, as Crian did. Jarred had not known this the first time he had been sent on errands on his own. He had lived in the city for two weeks, and at the Market had been conned into paying for a small portion of cheese for three times more than it had been worth, for he had not understood the value of the coins in his pocket. He could not forget Crian’s anger at his mistake, nor the disappointment in Anna’s eyes. Now, the bag he carried was heavy with knives, nails, a couple of short pokers and some other wares that he had smithed himself— items that would be valuable to the people.

A man walked past him and swung his basket without notice, hitting Jarred sharply upon his hip. He winced and glanced over at Anna to see if she had caught his misstep, but to his relief she was peering at the bakery down the block.

“I have made a poultice for Amoren’s bad knee,” Anna nodded toward the shop. “I know she will take it in exchange for a loaf of bread. We need lettuce and potatoes; see what Martie will give you for one of the knives.”

“His horse walked with a limp last week,” Jarred supplied. “Perhaps he needs a new shoe.”

“We might get more for it, too,” she paused for a moment and then laughed, and Jarred’s heart beat faster, as it always did at that sound. “Just… be sure to mind the baskets.” 

At that, Anna stepped away and greeted Amoren warmly. She _had_ seen. Jarred stifled his embarrassment and grinned regardless. As if she knew, Anna looked back and returned his smile. This had become their way: shared glances over nothing; casual touches that lingered too long. It was unfamiliar, but not at all unwelcome.

When she had turned back to the baker, Jarred allowed himself a quick glance up towards the palace upon the hill. It was a daily ritual, of sorts. Despite the brightness of the day, it was shrouded in its magical mist. He could see the outline of the towers, and the tree that had housed his childhood games. It made him feel ill, to think of kind and gentle Endon all alone, even in a palace filled with people. He counted to three, and forced himself to tear his eyes away. 

The best produce shop was two blocks away from the bakery. Jarred made his way through the crowd with practised determination. Martie sat on his stoop, a small wheelbarrow of tired vegetables on his left side, and an even smaller cart of spotted fruits on his right. His skinny grey horse was tied to the rail of the steps. Jarred greeted the shopkeeper politely, but Martie turned away. Jarred frowned anxiously. His newfound neighbours had never questioned his presence, not when there were worse things to come to Del than harmless strangers. But what if they were beginning to question him? The people of Del hated the royal family as much as Crian did. They would not welcome him, if they uncovered the truth. Jarred squinted through the sunlight and looked back at the street, but could not see Anna.

“Are you going to buy anything, or will you just stand there, boy?” Martie asked roughly. He looked up finally, and Jarred saw there was no anger in his eyes, just sadness. He looked very thin, and very old.

“I came for vegetables,” Jarred said after a moment’s hesitation. He unslung his heavy bag and set it upon the dusty road. “I have brought a few horseshoes. Or did you need any knives? I also have pokers, nails, and—.”

“I will not be trading or bartering today,” Martie interrupted and looked away again. “If you want anything, you will have to pay in full— with coins.”

Jarred stared at him, uncomprehending. Anna came up behind him and touched his arm lightly. 

“I have the bread,” she told him triumphantly, displaying a large paper bag. “Amoren slipped me a little pouch of flour, too, which was very kind.” 

“We cannot afford vegetables this week,” Jarred said softly. Martie looked miserable. 

“What do you mean?” Anna frowned and looked between the two men. 

“Nothing is growing as it once did,” Martie told her defensively. “I have grandchildren to feed, Anna, and I cannot sustain them upon horseshoes.”

Anna was silent. She glanced at Jarred and he knew they were both thinking of Crian and his selflessness when it came to his fellow citizens. Yet Martie could not be blamed for his self-preservation. 

“We cannot do business today, then. Have a good night, Martie,” Anna told him genuinely as Jarred collected his bag. 

Before she turned away, Jarred caught Anna gazing longingly at the basket of mushy strawberries. Jarred remembered all of the strawberries he had eaten in his childhood, large and jewel-like, often powdered with sugar or dipped in chocolate. It was not fair that he could keep such memories and not share them with her. He slipped a hand into his pocket and touched the cold metal of a coin. Crian paid him for his work as fair as a poor blacksmith could, and so he had some money of his own. But he recalled his first disastrous attempt at shopping, and he did not wish to be the cause of such disappointment again. Money was to be saved, not spent, unless it was absolutely necessary. 

They walked through the city, slowly and aimlessly. The bag on Jarred’s back seemed much heavier than it had been. Around them, shopkeepers began to pack up the Market. They walked in silence, lost in thought. Anna had a little garden of herbs and root vegetables, but it would not be enough. They had the bread, and at home there was some cheese and a little bit of chicken, some other assorted foods that could be turned into a soup. That would last their household for at least a week, but it would not be sustainable. 

“We will have to buy vegetables eventually,” Anna said softly, putting a voice to Jarred’s thoughts. 

“Indeed. Although, I fear that Martie’s plan will not take him far.”  
  
“No,” Anna agreed. “We are more well-off than many of our neighbours, and if we cannot part with our money, than neither can they.”

Jarred stopped at a patch of grass on the corner of the next block. The grass rose into a little hill, with a reedy tree at the top. In the full daylight was popular with the local children, but in the evening the space often was unoccupied. He let his bag drop to the ground, and sat down beside it. Anna settled down next to him and placed the bread by the bag. 

“Thank you for trying,” she said after a moment.

“Of course,” Jarred frowned and tore at a handful of grass. Would Crian be disappointed, or would he understand? Anger stabbed at him suddenly, vexation at the lifestyle that had been forced upon Del for so long. Anna reached out and covered his hand with her own, stilling it. He let go of the grass and slid his fingers through the gaps between her own. He looked up and met her eyes, and saw that they were filled with a love that was surely mirrored in his own. 

“It is alright,” she soothed, and squeezed his hand gently.

For all of their lingering glances and secret smiles, they had never done anything like this. For a moment Jarred was afraid, but she touched his face with her free hand his fear melted away.

“We will make it through this,” she continued. “It will be hard, but it will not always be painful. We will find a way.”

She lowered her hand from his face, and when Jarred turned back to the city he could not help but gasp.

The setting sun cast shadows on the chaotic curves of the streets, but the buildings still in the sunlight appeared to be bathed in gold. A bird chirped merrily in the tree above, and laughter spilled out from a house down the road. The ragged city suddenly looked very beautiful. He wondered if it was real, or if he was seeing it through eyes clouded by love. But it did not matter, for it was realer and more beautiful than the pretty lies seen by those in the palace.

The breeze stirred Anna’s hair against his cheek, and suddenly— like a vision— Jarred could see his life, as it would be. He saw the Forge, filled with the fine work of his labours. He heard the sound of children’s laughter. He felt Anna’s hand in his own, and knew what his future held. She had spoken the truth: there would be hardship and trial in plenty, but there would be love and happiness to balance it out. For that was all he wanted. To be happy; for Anna to be happy. It was such a simple goal for a someone who had come from the palace, but up there he had wanted for nothing, which had meant that nothing had ever felt special. Everything had changed, but not all of the changes were bad.

“We should go home soon,” Anna said with gentle reluctance. “We must take stock of what we have, so that we can plan what to do next when Grandfather returns.”

“In just another minute,” Jarred agreed, and rested his head against hers as she laughed quietly.

When they did rise to leave, Jarred could still feel the presence of the immense palace behind him, but he did not turn around to look. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dragonloverdoran on tumblr, who requested something early in Jarred and Anna's romance


End file.
